MUNY
by skyofpie
Summary: Had Ally left for M.U.N.Y.


He visits her _probably_ more frequently than he should. Even Trish doesn't come by this often. Granted, Trish, although an amazing friend, is not a rock star who can afford to fly to New York every week just to see her.

Ally doesn't mind. She likes his visits.

Maybe more than she should.

She likes how after a weary week, she can look forward simply to him. Anything else that happens _while_ he is there...well, that's just an added bonus.

The first time he showed up outside her dorm room (which she thankfully doesn't have to share with any bothersome roommates), she wasn't expecting it. She figured the knock on her door was some confused student, who'd gotten the rooms mixed up. No one here knew her well enough yet to knock on her door.

So she let whoever it was keep knocking, because she was tired, and her hair was a mess, and she was still in pajamas. It was a Saturday. Whoever refused to let up on the knocking could wait.

"Ally," he had called through the door, and her eyes widened. "Could ya let me in? I'm just knocking out here like an idiot. People are staring at me." She doesn't bother with the pajamas, but she should at least _try_ to flatten her hair.

Not for Austin. Haha. That's...ridiculous. Completely so. It's just that according to him, there are other people around. She doesn't want to look messy during the two seconds she's answering the door. Perfectly logical.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs as she gestures him inside. "I thought you were a stranger or something. What are you doing here?" she asks, giving him a hug.

"I missed you," he states plainly, as if it's obvious.

"Austin, I haven't even been gone a full week yet. And you helped me move in."

"I know. I was there."

"Well," begins Ally, "I'm glad you're here. But it would've been nice if you'd have told me beforehand, so I could at least be dressed when you knocked." She shuts her dresser drawers. "I'll be right back."

When she gets back from the bathroom, ready to go, he's at the keyboard, but he's not playing anything. His fingers are hovering above the keys. She walks over to him, and he looks up at her, his eyes curious.

"How do you write songs, Ally?"

"How do you get up on any old stage and just perform like you do, Austin?" He turns back to the piano and smiles, and neither of them need an answer, because they both just _know_.

"It's a weekday. You shouldn't have come, you're gonna be so tired in the morning." She accidentally forgets to say hello.

"What do you mean I shouldn't have come? It's your birthday! You think I'd just let you sit in this miserable little room alone all night when you should be celebrating? You only turn nineteen once, ya know. Besides, I bet you weren't even going to eat any cake."

"This room isn't _miserable_, nineteen isn't even a memorable number, and cake isn't really good for you. And what makes you think that I don't already have plans?"

"You're Ally Dawson. I _know_ you don't have plans." She glares at him for being right.

Two plates of Chinese food and one shared red velvet cupcake later, she is no longer glaring. She's not even thinking about glaring, because there's a huge glob of butter cream frosting on his chin, and she wants to see how long it'll take him to notice. So far, it's been seven minutes.

He reaches up to scratch an itch, and his fingers are at once covered in frosting. Ally chuckles, and he turns on her.

"You let me walk around with food on my face for like ten minutes! What kind of friend are you? " he exclaims, but he's laughing along with her. He wipes off the frosting with one finger, and tries to fling it at Ally, but she swiftly dodges, smirking his way.

"It was actually eight minutes and sixteen seconds, but hey, who's counting?"

"Um, you obviously were. Not nice, by the way. But it's your birthday, so I won't attack you with any more icing."

"How very kind of you."

"What can I say? I'm a nice guy." He is, she won't deny that, but for now, she doesn't need to enlarge his ego.

They walk in silence, but the good kind of silence. The kind where Austin takes Ally's hand for no reason, even though they are, and unfortunately- er, she meant probably- will always be just friends.

And when she drops him off at the airport, late at night because neither of them wanted this time to end, they say the good kind of goodbye. The kind where Austin once again wishes her a happy birthday, before kissing the top of her head, even though-

Well, you know.

"This is way nicer than your dorm ever was," Austin compliments.

"Yeah, and way more expensive. I'm going to have to get a second job."

"I told you, we can get Jimmy Starr to buy the songs you write," Trish offers, because she and Dez are in New York, too. It's been a long time since all four of them have spent any time together. They've missed this. Even if all they're doing at the moment is helping Ally unpack.

Ally shrugs. "Yeah but...they're _my_ songs. Once I sell them to anyone, they aren't mine anymore."

"You write songs for Austin all the time," Dez points out. Ally presses her lips together.

"That's different. Jimmy will have my songs recorded by people I don't even know. I don't want that." If Austin hadn't just gone back out to the car to grab the last of the boxes, he'd've taken her side, because he understands.

"Write songs that you don't care about, then," Trish argues, because she doesn't. "Hey, don't give me that look. I'm trying to _help_ you."

"Sorry, I know. I'll think about it."

Dez offers to buy them all ice cream, and while he claims he's "just being a good friend," they all know he's tired of working. Trish must be rubbing off on him.

Unfortunately, they don't carry Fruity Mint Swirl in New York. She's asked several times, in several different places. She's reduced to cookie dough, the same as Austin.

She and Austin sit joined at the hip, though there's adequate room on the rest of the bench for them to space out. Yet it is so normal for them to be this close, Ally doesn't even think anything of it, until she realizes-courtesy of Dez and Trish-that normal friends don't sit so near.

Who knew.

She's aware of it again, for only the second time ever, on the couch back at home, after Trish and Dez have retreated to their hotel rooms for the night. She likes this couch. In her dorm room, all she had room for, seating-wise, were beanbags. And a tiny stool for her keyboard.

You can't sit joined at the hip with someone on a stool. But on a couch, you can sit with your head resting on your best friend's chest and be perfectly comfortable, and not because space is tight. But because that's just the way they like to sit together.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're really adorable when you're half asleep?"

"Is that a compliment, or a question?" Ally yawns. "Because if anyone _has_ told me that, I must've been too tired to remember." But this is Austin, and so she'll definitely remember this time.

Especially because once her head droops down just a little bit further, and Austin has assured and reassured himself that she is most definitely asleep, he draws up more than simply his courage to whisper to no one that he loves her.

She doesn't move. She is most definitely _not_ asleep.

Her dad couldn't make it to her graduation. And it hurts, because she's his daughter, and he should be sitting in the second row right next to Austin and Trish and Dez. But if he leaves the store, business will go down. And a flight for one day in New York is expensive. Even though Austin offered to pay it, there was no need to inconvenience him.

Excuses. Excuses that leave a bitter taste in Ally's mouth as she walks across the stage to accept her diploma.

Polite applause fills the small outdoor area. She can hear the section where the cheers are just a little bit louder. Three of the four people who mean the world to her.

One of the two people she can safely say she loves, even if she's only saying it in her head.

Keep in mind, her father couldn't make it.

As soon as she can, she's pushing through the crowd, trying to find her friends. Maybe if she'd worn some taller shoes, she'd be able to see over all these heads. Then again, she'd've most definitely tripped onstage, and she's only just beginning to be okay with standing in front of a crowd. No need to backtrack on that.

They're by the same seats they'd been sitting in for the entire ceremony, Trish looking as if she'd just woken up. Her arms are the first to squeeze her around the waist, whispering, "Congrats, Ally!" before giving Dez a turn, who does the same.

And then Austin is hugging her, and he lifts her feet off the ground, and spins her around. Ally is laughing, and maybe she's crying a little bit too.

She lands on the ground again. "Hey," Austin murmurs, bending down to speak in her ear. "You okay? I know how much you wanted him to be here." A couple more tears leak out; this time they aren't tears of joy. His arms come around her again. She can't speak. "Let's go for a walk, Ally."

Trish and Dez don't follow. They know not to. This is not their moment.

Austin and Ally push through the crowd. Well, to depict the scene more accurately, Austin keeps a firm grip on Ally's wrist as he pulls her through the throngs of graduates and their family and friends.

They leave the sound behind, and while thousands of voices is a noise that can't be silenced, at least the two of them can speak. And they do.

"I wanted to prove him wrong," she whispers. "I wanted him to watch me walk across that stage, and somehow realize that I _can_ make it."

"You have made it." Ally shakes her head.

"Not to him. I wasn't even worth an all-expenses paid trip to New York." Austin takes her hand.

"Agreed," he says nonchalantly, and for a split second, her heart breaks a tiny bit, until he continues. "You're definitely worth more than that."

Heart instantaneously mended.

He bends down to kiss her nose lightly. "You know, and I know, that you're that billion to one chance our parents would always talk about. You're Ally Dawson, and the next time you visit Miami, you will march into Sonic Boom, and shove not only your diploma, but Dez's video recording of you receiving it, into your father's face. You've already proven him wrong."

It's her dad. They shouldn't be talking about him like he's the enemy.

But that's not where her focus is this second. She finally smiles. "Where did I find you?" He opens his mouth to answer her. She holds up a hand. "Don't worry. Believe me, I know where I found you." He grins. He has the inability to forget where she found him.

He's very glad she found him. He tells her this, and there's a pause in their conversation.

Her next not-so noteworthy words are against his lips.


End file.
